


I'll Find Your Lips in the Streetlights

by perfectlystill



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, F/M, Haunted Houses, Homophobia, Ice Skating, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlystill/pseuds/perfectlystill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Maya looks up at him. His eyes are wide, and she feels warm all over. She remembers something about body heat. 98 degrees. Boiling is 212. Freezing is 32. There's a science formula she was supposed to know but never bothered to memorize. She wonders what the difference is between the temperature outside and Lucas' breath.</i> </p><p>Five times Maya wants Lucas to kiss her, and one time she kisses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Find Your Lips in the Streetlights

**December, Freshman Year.**

The wind chaps Maya's cheeks, making them feel stretched thin and itchy even when she's not touching them, when she smiles or laughs and the muscles move. She can feel the crack in her skin when Riley stumbles on her shuffle around the outside of the rink, bending over suddenly to grab onto the railing. Riley's more coordinated than ever on her feet from cheerleading -- still an alternate, still miles behind the other team members, but improving and happy, especially because in high school she's been joined by a gaggle of other alternates -- but the glide of skates seems to shock her limbs, make her wobble every third slow, almost walk-like shuffle. 

Maya wonders if her cheeks could start bleeding like the crack on her second knuckle from washing her hands at work and forgetting to apply lotion. 

"That's four!" Zay hollers as he pulls by her again. 

"Stupid ballerina!" Maya rolls her eyes, but there's no malice in it. 

Zay spins around effortlessly, and his speed decreases as he glides backwards. "There's not an ounce of grace in you, huh?" A beat passes where Maya tries to decide which sarcastic remark best says _I hate you, but only by half_ , but then he continues: "It's okay, Hart, I have enough for both of us." 

Zay charges forward again, grabs onto the sleeves of her coat by the elbows and pulls her backwards, the quick changes in direction do nothing to confuse his legs. Maya stumbles at the increase in speed, though, picking up her right foot, feeling the front of the blade dig into the ice before she sets it back down evenly, letting Zay pull her along, a few feet from the rink's edge. 

She glares. "Let go of me." 

Her hair flies away from her head, and she wishes she'd taken the earmuffs Riley offered, but she doesn't want to tell Riley she was right. 

"She'll punch you," Farkle seems to say from her right, and she whips her head around to see him spinning in the center of the rink. 

Farkle and Zay are both natural skaters, light on their feet. They both tried to give Riley some advice when the group first set foot onto the ice, watching her inch along, hands crossing over each other as she held onto the railing. Maya imagined Riley's popping knuckles and the white of a too tight grip under her gloves to match the pop of her jaw. But, by the second time Riley fell on her butt, reaching for the edge Zay had lured her away from, he gave up. Farkle lasted longer, until Riley promised him she'd be fine, and he'd reluctantly left her to Lucas, who, for all his athletic ability, is only a fraction of an inch better at skating than Riley. 

"I'll punch you," Maya repeats. She makes no effort to shake Zay off. Because the wind is cold against her cheeks and the tips of her ears feel like they might go numb, but it's nice, refreshing, and she likes the speed, the forward momentum. She's afraid if he does let go, she'll glide into another skater, and the prospect of ramming into a cute boy seems less likely than ramming into a toddler.

Just keep moving. Don't think. 

"That might have scared me a year ago, but you're all bark." Zay laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that reminds Maya of Riley. 

She narrows her eyes. "Wanna bet?"

"That a promise?"

Maya shoves her elbow out and up, aiming somewhere around his shoulder. She misses completely as Zay lets go with a huffed: "Jesus, woman." Maya's caught off balance with the movement, her left skate scratching out instead of forward, and she swears she can hear the squeal of the shaved ice under her feet. Embarrassment more than genuine panic sets in when she realizes she's going to fall. She goes forward instead of backward, knees cracking against the ice, wetness seeping into her gloves. She gulps in some air, trying to catch her breath and orient herself. Zay is totally going to pay for this.

She pushes back up to her feet, wiping at her knees where more melting ice has left patches of wetness. She's probably going to get pneumonia or something. 

"You okay?" Lucas asks. 

Maya looks up. He's slowly walking toward her, picking up his skates between each step, like he's afraid his feet will leave the rest of him behind if he actually, y'know, skates. "Why don't you ask that friend of yours?" Maya stands up straight, lacing her fingers behind her back in an attempt to stretch the fall out of her bones. 

Lucas' mouth quirks. "Is he okay?"

Maya scowls. "I'm the one who ended up on the ground."

"You're also the one who tried to elbow him in the face."

"I wasn't aiming for his face, Huckleberry," Maya clarifies. She brushes some hair off her forehead, feeling the cold residue her glove leaves on her skin. "I'm fine."

"Good. You wanna teach me how to do this thing?" He gestures toward his skates. 

"Shouldn't you ask Farkle or the attempted murderer?"

"I think they're too good at this to teach someone," Lucas says thoughtfully. 

"Keep the compliments coming," Maya drawls. "It really warms a girl's heart to hear she's not great at something."

"You know that's not what I meant," Lucas says, but there's no frustration in the set of his brow, just genuine, amiable eyes and an honestly that Maya wishes he'd stop using on her -- _feeling_ about her. It makes her want to shiver from something other than the cold. 

"Right." Maya shakes her head to clear it. "Anyway, the walking thing you've got going is a good start, but your steps are supposed to get longer as you get more comfortable."

She walks next to him, carefully taking each step with him, and then she tries to show him what she means, leaving her feet on the ice a little longer as she goes forward. 

Maya likes ice skating. It's a holiday memory that doesn't involve her dad, a memory where the distinct lack of his presence doesn't sour the whole thing: waiting in line at Rockefeller Center with her mom on Christmas Eve, the chill seeping into her bones, so that when they finally get onto the ice, the heat of the exertion mixes with the heat of her mom's laugh. They'd get small hot chocolates after, and Maya would always burn her mouth from drinking too quickly. She'd fall asleep with the taste of warm milk still on her tongue, a nice ache in her knees and ankles, and it wouldn't be so bad when her mom left the next morning to go to work, letting her open her present by herself with a turkey TV diner and _It's a Wonderful Life_. 

She remembers asking her dad to come when she was little -- four, maybe five -- before he left, and she remembers him saying it was "girl bonding time," ruffling his hand warmly against her hair. It had made sense to her then. It hadn't felt like rejection. It had felt like something adults knew that she didn't: ice skating on Christmas Eve was girl bonding time, and her mom always went to work on Christmas, and at one point, she had a dad who would be there to watch her open her present.

Lucas' shoulder bumps into hers. "You're a good teacher, Maya."

He still looks awkward as he shuffles along. She thinks maybe because he's trying to stay with her strides, and his legs are too long for it. "Children can do this."

"Still." He shakes his head, smiling fondly. "Are you always supposed to feel like you might fall over?"

"No. You're supposed to trust yourself." Maya skates out in front of him, stopping to think about the mechanics of moving backwards. "Here." She holds out her hands, and Lucas eyes them warily. "I don't have cooties."

"I know." He takes them, and she bites her lip. She is very grateful for her damp gloves and Lucas' dry ones. 

"Don't skate," she instructs, slowly inching back. It takes more effort than she'd like to pull him along, and she focuses on looking at her feet instead of his face, but when she glances up, there's a hint of fear in his eyes, his mouth pressed together. "Relax."

Maya picks up speed slowly as her legs get the hang of skating backwards, and it becomes easier to bring Lucas along with the momentum. He squeezes her hands when she takes a turn too quickly to avoid running into a couple that stopped in front of the tree to take a selfie. 

"Trust me," she says.

She doesn't expect an answer, and she doesn't expect him to squeeze her hands again when he offers it: "I do."

A weird lump catches in Maya's throat and she coughs around it. "You can feel it, right? It's fun. Not so scary."

"You're not gonna let go of me to teach me that falling is the worst thing that could happen, are you?" She can hear the smile in his voice, and she watches the lines her skates etch into the ice that he follows, feet on either side of them. 

Maya laughs. "Maybe."

"The fear's good though, right? If it doesn't stop you?" 

"Stop trying to be deep."

Lucas laughs, and Maya feels the dried stiffness in the knees of her jeans, feels the dampness on the palms of her gloves almost like sweat. She wants to brush some hair off her forehead again, but she can't. Zay whistles at them as he speeds by, Riley waves from where she's hanging onto the railing, calling out encouragements to Lucas, Farkle a few feet in front of her, leaning against the side, telling her that that could be her if she'd just let go. Maya agrees: "Can't let Lucas beat you, Riles!"

She pulls Lucas along until she loses track of where they are in conjunction with the people around them and the walls of the rink, caught up in the feeling of the wind against the dried skin of her face and the tree lighting up as the sun sets. In dodging a father holding his daughter's hand as she learns how to skate, Maya ends up ramming her hip into the wall, and Lucas stumbles into her. 

"Ow," she says, partly because of her hip, partly because Lucas is a lot of muscle and bone. 

"Sorry," he says, his body pressed against hers. "I should've warned you."

"Yeah, you should've." Maya looks up at him. His eyes are wide, and she feels warm all over. She remembers something about body heat. 98 degrees. Boiling is 212. Freezing is 32. There's a science formula she was supposed to know but never bothered to memorize. She wonders what the difference is between the temperature outside and Lucas' breath. Maya doesn't think science would help her too much with that. 

"I wasn't paying attention." Lucas hasn't moved away, and his steady gaze makes Maya's face feel warm, too, like maybe she's blushing. She hopes not. 

"I'm really distracting," Maya jokes, mouth tilting up at the ends.

"You are." It doesn't sound like a joke. His eyes flit to her mouth, then back up, and Maya's breath catches. She blinks and bites her lip. She curls her hand around his wrist, and everything seems sharper, more important, the silence stretching on longer in her head than it actually does. But then Lucas clears his throat. "You hair's a mess." He brushes at it with an open palm, some of it getting caught between his fingers. He tugs gently, and Maya thinks maybe the moment's not ruined. He backs away. "I think I'll try a little on my own."

Maya ignores the disappointment settling in her stomach. It doesn't make sense. "Yeah. That's a good idea." 

 

 

**July, Sophomore Year.**

There's a heatwave the summer before Junior year. It's the end of July, and the Matthews are on vacation in South Carolina, some quaint beach or something. So Maya's stuck in her own apartment. The A/C broke two days in, and the ceiling fan creaks. It's better than nothing, though, and she can drown it out with her headphones if she's willing to risk hearing loss. Mostly she is.

Her hair is piled on her head, and the ice in her coke keeps melting before she has time to drink it. Annoyance settles in Maya's ribs. The heat, in and of itself, isn't so awful. It's the humidity that breaks out all over her skin that bothers her. It's like wading through invisible gas, air caught heavy in her lungs. Everything seems more difficult with the humidity: sitting up, walking from point A to point B, moving her limbs at all. 

Maya stares at the ceiling, watching the fan whir around and around. She contemplates using the last of the ice, whether to rub it over the back of her neck or let it melt in her already diluted glass of coke, she isn't sure. She pushes up on one elbow when there's a knock on her window. "Hey," Lucas says. 

"Hey." Maya falls back down. 

"It's hot in here."

"I know." Maya rolls her eyes. 

She tilts her head back, resting on her bun, and watches as Lucas shrugs before moving to lie down next to her. He's quiet, and out of the corner of her eye she can she him flexing his hand against the carpet, his mouth pressed together. She imagines he's grinding his teeth. His leg shakes restlessly, and Maya yawns, fixes her gaze on the ceiling fan that's stolen hours of sleep from her. 

"You want to talk about it?" she asks. 

"It's stupid. Mama made lemonade for lunch--"

"Homemade?" Maya's throat is so dry. She reaches out and taps her fingers against her coke glass. They come away wet with condensation. 

"Yeah."

"A regular pioneer woman." Maya smiles softly, but Lucas isn't looking at her. 

"It was fine. My father likes lemonade. And then -- I don't know how it happened -- I brought up veterinary school. And he said, you now, it was cute for a while, but I need to get serious."

"The military?" Maya asks, even though she already knows. 

"West Point." Lucas adopts a deeper voice, an imitation of his father: "At least you'd be in New York, son. I've been quite generous and patient with your ungratefulness." He runs a hand over his face. "I'm just causing him problems. Not working hard enough. You know, I got a B in AP gov. last semester? Only got a 4 on the exam, too."

"That's really good," Maya offers. "4 out of 5 is like, an A."

"It's a low B."

Maya swallows. "I mean, but AP tests aren't graded that way, right?" 

"It doesn't matter," Lucas sighs. "He said I'm not doing the family proud. I'm a disappointment. And I need to stop entertaining useless dreams."

"Hey, I don't think it's useless." Maya reaches out and runs her finger over the back of his hand, trailing it over the hills and valleys of his knuckles. "I think it's nice."

"He's in charge."

"I know." Maya frowns. The fans creaks above them, and the humidity feels even more oppressive than it did a few minutes ago. "Our air broke and the landlord's not coming to fix it until tomorrow."

"We could go somewhere." 

"And give my terrible fan a break?" Maya scoffs. "Never."

Lucas turns his head to look at her, but he doesn't smile. There's still hurt floating in his irises, and his eyebrows are tense, mouth fixed, caught between anger and apathy. Maya rolls away from him to take a sip of soda. The sugar seems to coat her throat, increase her thirst rather than satiate it, and she takes a few more gulps, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand before flopping down again. 

She lets the relative silence settle between them. A car horn honks, a child squeals, and the fan almost masks it all. Vague dizziness pushes at Maya's head as she watches the fan go around and around, almost like a headache. She closes her eyes and tries to count the seconds between the creaks. One-two-three-four-creak. One-two-three-four-creak. The rhythm lulls her into calmness. Maya thinks, if she wanted to, she could fall asleep. 

"My dad called me a few weeks ago," she says instead.

She hears Lucas shift and can sense that he's looking at her now. "He did?" 

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Yeah. He's getting married. Wanted to know if I was interested in coming to the wedding."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Maya blinks open her eyes and hates to find that they're wet now, again. "In Arizona. He didn't offer to pay for the plane ticket, or the hotel, or anything. Didn't even tell me my future stepmom's name."

"You think he wants you there?" Lucas asks. 

Maya looks at him. He's calmed, too, his face settled. There's concern in the arch of his eyebrow, and the anger's still there, but she knows, this time, it's on her behalf. "No. I think he wanted to feel good about asking me."

"Do you want to be there?" 

Maya bites her lip and shakes her head. "No."

"I'm sorry, Maya."

"It's not your fault my dad's a shit."

"Still," Lucas says, shrugging and tilting forward. "His loss."

"Your dad's too. Anyone else would be proud to have you. Your mom is." Maya smiles a little. The vulnerability still stutters in her throat, makes her stomach churn in a way that isn't nice or comfortable. But she trusts Lucas now. Trusts him to listen and understand without trying to fix anything, and she knows it's a mutual feeling. Sharing without expectation; sharing enough to make it hurt less. 

"Maybe." Lucas reaches forward and wipes at the corner of her mouth. "You know, you've got cheese."

"You know you could have told me that when you first walked in?" She raises an eyebrow. 

"I think it's stuck to you with soda." 

Maya licks her thumb, pushes Lucas' hand away and rubs with force. "Gone now?"

He smirks. "No."

Groaning, Maya goes back to scrubbing. "I knew I shouldn't have finished those Cheetos. What about now?"

"Still there." His eyes are lighter, bright with laughter. 

She rolls hers and brings the edge of her shirt up to rub at her face, spitting on it and wiping some more. It's scratchy against her skin, and the force she uses almost hurts. "Now?" she asks, ready to get up, go to the bathroom and splash water on her face.

Lucas reaches out, fiddles with the edge of her top, eyes still bright, but a little darker. He swallows when he looks at her face. "Yeah. It's gone now."

His knuckle brushes against the skin at her waist, and Maya leans forward. "You sure?"

Lucas' eyes linger on her mouth, and Maya's heart thumps loudly in her chest. She wants all of his knuckles to press against her stomach. She's hot and sticky, and some thin hairs tickle the nape of her neck where they've fallen out of her bun. The air is thick, and she can't breathe with the way Lucas looks at her. She moves closer, and Lucas moves back. "Yeah. You're good."

Maya blinks. "Oh." She stops the apology on her tongue and clears her throat. "Good."

"Good." Lucas repeats. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. "Ice cream?"

"Good," Maya says on instinct. She's such an idiot. "I mean, sounds good. Sure."

Lucas keeps looking at her in a way he must think is stealthy as they walk toward the subway station, and Maya decides she likes it enough to ignore whatever didn't happen in her bedroom.

 

 

**November, Junior Year.**

"And I've got all this candy we can eat. Even those mints you like." Riley smiles, arm hooked around Maya's as they turn down the hallway.

"God, I love you." Maya grins back. It's Friday and they've got sleepover plans. Well, Riley has the plans. Maya's just going to show up and follow said plans with fluctuating levels of feet-dragging and complaining. "Even if you're going to make me watch _Lilo and Stitch_ for the thousandth time."

"Ohana means family, Maya." There's a _tsk tsk_ quality to Riley's tone that bleeds into her amusement and fond exasperation.

"Hey Riley," a girl calls.

Maya turns her head, and because she's looking at the girl -- short, curly brunette hair, cheerleading uniform -- she almost misses the way Riley tenses beside her.

"Hey," Riley answers slowly, dragging the syllables out.

"Who's this?" The girl nods toward Maya with an unfriendly sneer on her face. "Your girlfriend?"

She says it like poison, spitting it off her tongue before she gets infected, and Riley frowns. "Maya's my best friend, Grace."

"Jealous?" Maya asks. When Riley tries to step away, Maya pulls her back, keeping their sides firmly pressed together. Throughout Maya's life, she's found Riley fleetingly embarrassing, because she's optimistic and bubbly and weird, but never because of who she likes, and never without loving her all the same.

The girl -- Grace -- laughs. It's an ugly sound. "Please, I'm not gay." She tilts her head at Riley. "Your friend here's the one who can't help but look at the girls while we're in the locker room. It's disgusting."

"I'm not gay," Riley whispers, looking at the ground. "I'm bi."

"Whatever." Grace snorts. "We don't want you on the team anymore. You make us uncomfortable."

"People like me," Riley counters, looking back up. Her voice is wet, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. "Samantha invited me to her birthday next week."

"She doesn't like you, Riley. She's _normal_."

Maya unhooks her elbow from Riley's so she can throw her fist into Grace's nose, but she's stopped by Riley's hands tugging on her wrist and someone else's on her waist. "Don't," Lucas whispers in her ear. "You'll get suspended."

"I don't care." Maya struggles, and eventually shakes him off.

Grace snickers, arms crossed over her chest. "You guys are pathetic."

"I'm sorry you're so unhappy," Riley says, her voice wavering. "I'll see you in practice on Monday."

Riley tugs Maya around another corner, and Maya can feel Lucas behind them. When Riley stops and drops Maya's wrist, she scrubs her hands over her face and presses her palms against her eyes. Lucas' breathing is ragged where he stands next to her, and Maya rolls her shoulders back, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot until Riley starts shaking, and then she hugs her. Riley is taller than her, an almost awkward amount, but it's not, because it's Riley.

"I'm sorry, honey," Maya says, rubbing circles into Riley's back.

"It's okay," Riley sniffs. "I'm okay. I can fight my own battles. I just -- It stills hurts."

"I know." Maya presses a kiss to her temple "You're not alone."

They slide down onto the floor, leaning against the wall, Riley curled up into Maya as best she can. Maya runs her hands through Riley's hair and tries very hard not to think about getting up, tracking Grace down and making her bleed.

When Riley's body starts to relax, Maya glances up at Lucas. His face is red, eyes narrowed and dark. There's a menacing hunch to his shoulders that pairs well with the curl of his hands into fists. "Hey Riley," Maya whispers, like she's afraid of spooking her -- or Lucas, or both. "I'm gonna talk to Lucas for a second, and then we can go, okay?" She leans in closer: "You know, I really do like that alien."

Riley cracks a smile, and Maya feels warmth seep into her chest as she pushes to her feet. "Come on, Lucas," she says, wrapping her hand around his wrist the way Riley did with her earlier, and pulling him into the open, empty classroom across the hall.

She drops his wrist and crosses her arms over her chest so she knows what to do with them, and she waits. His breathing is quiet now, but she can see that it's still quick, harsh. "Riley's strong," she assures him and reminds herself. Riley is the strongest person she knows.

"How do people do that?" he asks. "I swear to god I'll--"

"Lucas," she cuts him off. "I know."

"Riley's amazing, and if that girl thinks she can--"

"I know." Maya laughs, but it's not funny.

His hands curl back into fists, and his eyes narrow. "I just want to be there for her -- to protect her."

"I know," Maya whispers.

And it's ridiculous, really, when he looks at her, eyes dark and angry, and she sees that protective streak in him, the one that could so easily be destructive, and it shoots through her, down to her toes. Maya knows now is not the time. Riley's outside waiting to start the weekend. Lucas has to get to football practice. It is really, really not the time. But there's a spring tightening in Maya's stomach and a different kind of heat surging through her veins, and she wants to take a step forward, feel his fists uncurl against her neck, his hands threading through her hair, all that anger and protectiveness re-purposed against her mouth and pressing her closer to him.

Ridiculous.

She swallows and laughs again, a little funnier this time, but not quite there. "I'm gonna go." She presses her mouth into a thin line and stumbles backwards, hitting the edge of the teacher's desk because she doesn't want to break eye contact. "You're gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," he breathes.

Maya bumps her elbow against the doorjamb, and it hurts enough that she blinks and breaks herself out of her daze.

_Ridiculous._

 

 

**May, Junior Year.**

The five of them go to junior prom.

Maya doesn't want to. It's money she doesn't want to spend to dance in a hotel's ballroom without a date. She thinks she might as well wait until senior year to do it. But Riley insists it'll be fun, and Farkle and Zay agree to go as a group instead of asking their girlfriends. And seeing as how Riley's boyfriend broke up with her a week before tickets went on sale, Maya's pretty easy to convince.

When they arrive, she wishes she had been more stubborn.

The dance floor is smaller than expected, and the five of them share a dinner table with a weird combination of a couple Zay knows and three girls Maya has never seen before in her life. She can either pick at the dry chicken on her plate or be absorbed into a crowd of sweaty bodies, and neither option appeals to her. Riley makes friends with the girls, easy as anything, and Maya isn't surprised when a slow song comes on halfway through the night, and Riley's got her arms around the redhead. Maya rolls her eyes and shreds another piece of chicken with her fork, small smile on her mouth.

At least everyone else is having fun.

"Maya," Farkle says, sliding back into the chair next to her. "Come dance."

"Not interested." Maya swirls her fork through the gravy that's left on her plate and watches it make a lopsided spiral pattern. "I don't want your hands on my waist."

Farkle snorts. "When the song changes, then."

Maya looks at him, the soft smile on his face and the way his hair flops into his eyes. "No."

"Fine." Farkle shrugs and looks back out onto the dance floor.

Maya follows suit. There's Riley, forehead against the redhead's -- Jill? Jenn? Jasmine? -- giggling about something. There's Zay, twirling Margot even though they didn't come together. "He's breaking the no significant others rule," Maya says.

"You gonna go break it up? Tell them to keep Jesus between them?"

"Shut up."

It takes a minute longer to find Lucas, but he's swaying with a girl Maya's seen him talking to in the halls. Her head is on his shoulder, and Maya chews on her lip. She has no right to feel jealous, but she's a little sad. He looks happy, and when he turns he somehow catches her eye and smiles. Maya smiles back, blinks and looks down at her plate.

She told herself it was situational at first. It made sense to want Lucas to kiss her when he'd fallen against her body like they were starring in some kind of romantic comedy, his mouth a breath away from hers. She'd think about kissing anyone if that happened. She's a hormonal teenager, after all. No big deal. But the feeling's become more common, the twist in her stomach and the desire to have him press his mouth against hers. When he bumps his shoulder against hers in the hallway, when she gets a B on her algebra test and he tells her he knew she could do it, when he smiles at her while dancing with another girl at prom. If it was ever situational, Maya's lost control of it.

"Oh," Farkle says. His eyebrows scrunch together and his mouth presses into a frown in some show of understanding or sympathy.

"No," Maya warns.

"If you just asked, he'd dance with you."

Maya feels the urge to use her fork as a launching device to hit Farkle in the face with chicken. Instead, she stands up, chair catching a little on the carpet. She holds out her hand. "Let's go. Before I change my mind."

The ballad ends by the time they get to the dance floor, and Maya drops Farkle's hand, reaching out to catch Riley, who launches herself at Maya. "Isn't this the best?" Riley exhales against her head.

"Sure, Pumpkin."

They jump around to the latest top 40 remixes, Farkle and Riley trying to out-embarrass each other. Riley does the sprinkler, Farkle does the microwave, and Riley counters with her own horrifying version of Vogue. Zay and Margot find them, and when Zay does the moonwalk, Riley takes him aside so he can teach her. They manage to carve out enough space that bodies aren't pushing into her, so it's not so bad.

And then a slow song comes on.

"Let's get a drink," Farkle says, nodding back toward their table.

"Yeah, my feet are starting to hurt, anyway." Maya's still got her heels on. Most girls have abandoned theirs by their seats, and Maya thinks that's probably smarter. She can feel a blister forming on her right arch, and there's an ache in her pinkies.

Sitting down, she slides off her shoes, flexes her feet and wiggles her toes. There's a cracking sound that makes her cringe. Maya takes a sip of tepid water and spots Zay twirling Riley. Riley's smile is bright, and her dress fans out around her like she's a princess.

"Ma'am." Maya turns and looks at Lucas. "May I have this dance?"

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Um, sure."

She follows Lucas to the back corner of the dance floor, shifting her weight, unsure what she's supposed to do. Her brain has short-circuited trying to decide if this was a good idea or a horrible one.

Lucas laughs softly and pulls her close, hands settling on her waist. Maya swallows and rests her hands on his shoulders, chewing her lip between her teeth. She feels even shorter now, heels off. She's not even tall enough to tuck her head underneath his chin. Maya could move closer, though, rest her head against his chest, her ear against his heart, feel if her proximity affects him at all, feel how.

She looks up eventually, and he's looking back, eyes soft and friendly. There's a small smile curving his mouth like the one when he was dancing with that other girl, and Maya's stomach flips. It fades as the song swells, and she feels his thumb rubbing against her hip over the material of her dress. She wants to say something, because she can feel it rising in her chest, the urge to lean closer, lean up on her toes, the hope that he'll lean closer, lean down and press his mouth to hers. She wants to stop herself.

No dates. That was the rule.

Maya's acutely aware of how his hands stretch over her waist, fingers pressing against her. She feels his knee when it bumps against hers, and her body is alight. Her nerves are too raw and exposed. She doesn't know when leaning happened, not really, maybe it's been happening this whole time, slow increments breached, but then his nose brushes against hers, and Maya closes her eyes.

She breathes and waits, and before anything else happens there's a scratch and the track changes, some hip hop remix flooding through the ballroom's speakers.

Maya can feel Lucas' laugh, but not close enough.

They both pull back, but Maya's the one who drops her hands first, Lucas following a beat later.

 

 

**October, Senior Year.**

A sharp chill whispers in the air, and even the lights of the city don't seem as bright here. Maya shoves her hands into her coat pockets and bounces on the balls of her feet.

"We could still leave," Riley offers, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

"We've been waiting almost an hour, we can't leave now," Zay says.

Riley frowns, but she nods. "Yeah, you're right."

"I'll wait out here if you want." Farkle smiles, bumping their elbows together. "We can go get some popcorn and then see which one of our friends comes out in tears."

"Ain't gonna be me." Zay puffs his chest out. "I'm not scared of nothin'."

Maya rolls her eyes. Her nose is cold and a bit runny, so she sniffles. "Riley, you have any Kleenex?"

"Yes!" Riley unzips her purse and starts riffling through it, there's the soft clank of her compact against a pen or something.

Maya scratches the tip of her nose, hoping it'll help. She's not actually going to wipe her nose with her hand because _gross_ , and she'll spend the whole night sucking snot back up her nostrils if she has to, but the prospect seems unpleasant for everyone involved. "I bet Ranger Rick cries first."

"Not happening," Lucas says.

"That's what they all say." Maya smirks, eyebrow rising in challenge.

There's a spark in Lucas' eyes. "Wanna bet?"

"Found it!" Riley shoves a plastic bag with tissues at Maya.

Maya's grateful. She blows her nose, and Riley has another plastic bag for disposal: "You have to prepared for all sorts of things at haunted houses."

"I don't think Maya having allergies is one of them," Farkle says, with something akin to fondness.

When the group reaches the front of the line, they're given instructions about what not to do, and Riley decides to go second to last with Farkle behind her, so if she decides to exit a little early, he's there. To Riley's credit, she gets through the first room with the giant goblin and shrieking, and the second room with the bucket of guts and eyeballs, before screaming about being too young to die and dragging Farkle back outside. Maya's proud of her little scaredy cat.

For all Zay's bravado, he ends up crouching behind Lucas, because Maya is the only one brave enough to start this thing off. He spends almost the entire trek through the house screaming before commenting about how "fake" it all is. Lucas sticks close to Maya, silent, occasionally reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. Maya swears he ducks behind her when the ceiling fan comes crashing toward them on the second level.

There's a ball of excitement coiled in her stomach almost the entire way through. An anxiety that has her shoulders itching up toward her ears and her neck aching with tension. She bites down on her lip so hard she worries she'll draw blood. The actors are good, and the makeup looks as real as she's ever seen. Maya doesn't scream, but her breath hitches and she cringes, shoving past people when she's afraid she'll lose it.

They're walking the short hallway to the last room when a ghost comes running toward them shrieking about blood, and Zay shrieks back. Maya turns her head, sees Zay's death grip on Lucas, and then the lights flicker, making her vision blurry. And flicker. And flicker. And she runs into something -- or someone -- hard, and it grabs her. She knows it's fine. She _knows_ she's fine, but she can't pull away as fast as she'd like, and she has to tug too hard and she knocks backwards into something. She can't tell if it's Lucas, and she screams.

The sound rips out of her throat and releases the adrenaline she's been clamping down on all night. She screams again, and holds her arms out in front of her, walking forward with purpose. She finds the light above the last room even though everything is still flashing strobe lights like it's a rave, and keeps her eyes there, stomach churning. She has no idea where Lucas and Zay went, because she can't feel their presence behind her, and she sure as hell isn't going to turn around. 

Maya makes it through the last part alone, jaw clenched and arms wrapped tightly around herself, hands tucked under her armpits.

She finds Lucas leaning against the wall, waiting just inside the exit corridor. There's a worker talking to a couple, and the streetlight from outside shines in faintly. Everything is grey. Everything is shadows.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Maya asks, her voice scratchy. At least it doesn't tremble. She bounces her knees to hide any potential tremors and to keep blood flowing.

"Zay is surprisingly strong and he wasn't stopped for anyone." Lucas grins at her, leaning into her space. "Did I hear you scream?"

"You can't prove anything."

"Zay makes a good witness," he counters.

Maya rolls her eyes. If she cops to it, she knows he'll never let her live it down. He may have tried to hide behind her, but he didn't scream like a baby. "I don't think he can be trusted not to have hearing damage from his own yelling."

Maya drops her arms, steps closer so their shoes brush. "Why? You want to protect me?"

There's a flash of something over Lucas' face, it's intense and sends a shiver down Maya's spine, makes her swallow hard. And when it's gone, his eyes are focused and dark. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and Maya has to shove her hands into her pockets to keep from reaching out and touching him. "I didn't think Maya Hart needed it."

"She doesn't." Maya shakes her head. Ridiculous. "I don't."

Lucas leans down, leans closer. He presses two fingers to the pulse point in her neck, just under her jaw. "Your heartbeat's fast."

"Always is," she lies, shrugging. "You don't have a baseline."

"Yeah." He smiles. "You're right."

"Are you gonna test it?" Maya asks.

She gets her hands out of her pockets and reaches for for him, one hand on his elbow to steady herself as she stands on her tiptoes, when Zay sticks his head back in the door. "She's alive!" he hollers.

"Fuck," she breathes, taking a step back and feeling the concrete under her heels when they hit the ground.

"I was worried about you, sugar," he says. "Now come on, lovebirds, we want fries."

Lucas ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair. Maya can't tell if he's blushing.

 

 

**January, Senior Year.**

"Northwestern," Maya repeats. It sounds smart on her tongue. Precise. "That's amazing, Riley."

"Thanks." Riley smiles and looks down, kicking her shoe against the linoleum. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it, you know? But when I visited the campus with my mom over the summer, it just seemed to fit. I didn't think I'd get in."

"But you did." Maya smiles. "Early decision."

Riley nods. "Binding."

"Farkle's gonna flip."

Riley laughs, soft and warm, that tinkling sound that reminds Maya of goodness. "Yeah. He's gonna want to ditch Yale for me."

"Hey," Maya says. "I'd ditch Yale for you."

Riley shakes her head. "Wherever you go, they'll be lucky to have you. I'm selfishly keeping my fingers crossed for the Art Institute in Chicago, though."

"Yeah."

There's a beat, and then three things happen at the same time.

Riley says: "Do you know what Lucas' first choice is?"

Maya hears Nicole from the cheerleading team laugh, too loud and controlled.

And Maya catches sight of Lucas behind Riley's head, listening to Nicole's obnoxious fake laugh.

"Earth to Maya." Riley waves her hand in front of Maya's face, and Maya blinks, apologizes.

But Riley's smart. Like, Northwestern smart. She turns around, and then spins back again to face Maya. "Oh."

Lucas is standing by his locker, arms crossed smugly over her chest. Nicole's looking up at him. She's a little taller than Maya, but not by much. When she laughs again, that too loud noise, she reaches up and swats at Lucas' shoulder. Maya can't see it from here, but she imagines there's a truly concerning amount of eyelash fluttering. "It's really embarrassing," Maya mutters.

"What?" Riley asks, eyebrows inching toward her forehead.

"Having to pretend to laugh so much to get someone to like you. Huckleberry's not that funny."

Riley grins knowingly, and it's not entirely pleasant. "I thought you were talking about yourself."

"Me?" Maya snorts and tears her eyes away from where Nicole just stood up on her toes to brush invisible hair off Lucas' forehead. Vomit. "I'm nowhere near as cringeworthy as she is being."

"Hey," Riley warns. "Nicole is nice."

Lucas smiles, and Maya can tell it's genuine, and she wrinkles her nose. No one should have to witness this. Honestly, she's going to be sick. "Whatever you say."

"She is." Riley tugs on her wrist. "Eyes on me, green pea."

"Please do not refer to me as vegetables. It's not cute."

Riley shakes her head, sighing in fond exasperation. "We've talked about this. You're not allowed to be irrationally jealous unless you tell Lucas you like him."

Maya rolls her eyes. They _have_ talked about this. Riley made her.

But it's complicated. Because she knows Lucas likes her, too. She does, but she doesn't know why he hasn't made a move.

The two of them studying at Topanga's before close, half the lights shut off, her mother in the back washing dishes. Walking through the park on the way home from school, the sun shifting through the trees, the way she'd paused before taking her left turn to his right one. Movie night at Riley's apartment when she'd gotten up with him to get more sodas for everyone, despite being incredibly comfortable snuggled between Riley and Farkle. He's had chances. He's just refused to take them.

And this isn't the 50s or whatever, Maya knows she's had those same chances. But it's hard. It's scary.

She chickens out. And those times she hasn't, it feels like the universe conspires against her to make sure it doesn't happen. She's not too big on Signs, but she thinks maybe the universe is trying to tell her something, save her from a mistake.

And then Nicole laughs. _Again_.

"Okay, but honestly, that sounds so fake," Maya points out, waving her finger over Riley's shoulder. "If she has to pretend he's funny when he's not, what's that to base a relationship off of?"

Riley sighs and moves so she's standing next to Maya. Lucas listens as Nicole speaks. Her hand trails down his arm, and Maya honestly doesn't know who she hates more: Nicole for being so obvious, herself for standing here and watching this, or Lucas for making her feel nuts. This is _nuts_.

"I'm going to go," Riley says. Maya can feel her burning a hole in the side of her head, so she looks at her. "You have a choice to make. Make it a good one." She smiles small and heads off.

Maybe Maya hates Riley the most. For being rational when all she wants to do is say unfounded, mean things about a girl she doesn't know, who has always been nice to Riley, because she's bad at flirting. Maya gets derailed, briefly, thinking about whether she'd feel better or worse if Nicole was good at flirting. 

And, okay, it's definitely herself she hates the most.

Maya watches the awful mating display for a few more minutes. Watches Nicole's ponytail bounce as she seems to find a myriad of excuses to touch Lucas, bouncing up on her toes and tugging at his earlobe -- honestly, what the fuck? -- tilting her head and brushing the back of her hand against his. It's excruciating. And then she hears, clear as day, Nicole squeal: "Oh my god, Luke!"

She strides over, no idea what she's doing, and playfully elbows Lucas in the ribs. "Howdy partner." She smiles at him, and then at Nicole. "Hey."

"Hi." Nicole returns the smile. "You're Maya, right? Riley talks about you a lot."

"The one and only." Maya is possessed. It's the only explanation for why she snakes her arm around Lucas' waist and then leaves it there.

She watches Nicole's eyes track the movement, and then glance between Maya's fingertips, Maya's face, Maya's fingertips, Lucas' face, and Maya's fingertips again. "Yeah, well. It was nice talking to you. Hopefully we can hang out sometime."

Maya honestly thinks the comment is directed at both herself and Lucas, and there's a sinking feeling in her gut as Nicole's mouth half-tilts up in awkward embarrassment before saying goodbye and excusing herself. Maya watches her turn the corner, arm still wrapped around Lucas' waist, and then she pulls away as fast as she can.

"Maya?" Lucas asks, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"What was what?" she tries, going for innocent confusion. 

He narrows his eyes. She's never been very good at innocent confusion.

"Maya," he says. It sounds like she's in trouble.

The adrenaline of irrational jealousy fades, and she's left feeling embarrassed and awkward, probably the same way Nicole feels, and it's awful. "I don't know." She shrugs. "What were you two talking about?"

God, she's awful.

Lucas shakes his head. "Nothing."

"She sure was laughing a lot about nothing," Maya says. She tries to send a message to _Shut Up!_ from her brain to her mouth. It doesn't work. "Are you going to ask her out?"

Lucas frowns, eyebrows furrowing. He watches Maya, eyes searching and serious, maybe a little sad. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Maya swallows.

"Besides the fact that you sauntered over here, acted _like that_ \--" Maya grimaces. "-- and I didn't do or say anything?"

"Yeah, besides that."

There's a moment of silence, and Maya bites her bottom lip, feels her belly twist in that awful-amazing way it does sometimes when Lucas' attention is focused on her, soft and open. "I like someone else."

Maya grabs his collar, pulls him down to her level so she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes. "Really?"

"Really," he whispers. His eyes dart to her mouth and then back up. Maya feels her heartbeat in her fingertips, the soft cotton of his shirt brushing against her pulse.

"Who?" she asks, like she doesn't know.

"Maya," he says, not like an answer, but like he's begging her to stop. "I don't-- I don't know if she wants--"

"Lucas," Maya whispers against his mouth. "Take a hint."

His hands find her waist, thumbs slipping underneath her shirt and brushing against her skin. His hands are rough but firm, and she presses forward, aching for contact. His mouth is also rough but firm, not at all like he's trying to say things he can't verbalize, not like he's trying to make up for lost time, but like he wants to press the memory into her, into himself. Maya curls her fingers tighter into his shirt, her other hand resting against his neck, fingers barely carding through his hair.

It's ... _Lucas_.

"She does," Maya breathes, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed. "She does want to."

**Author's Note:**

> I've had something like this in mind since "I am Farkle," but put it off until I realized I needed to post it before "Texas" jossed any semblance of canon compliance.
> 
> Title from Carly Rae Jepsen's iconic masterpiece "Run Away with Me."


End file.
